It starts with a story the Bible tells, of Pharaoh’s dream, in which seven thin cows devour seven fat ones. Joseph interpreted it as prophecy, seven years of plenty would be followed by seven years of famine. And unless Egypt stored wisely, the fat years would mean nothing.
Samoa has had its fat years. And now, before a single vote is cast, politicians from all sides have found themselves in a race to offer more. More cash to districts. More subsidies. More campaign giveaways. The governing FAST party boasts of district development grants and stable finances. The caretaker cabinet, made up of ministers ejected from the FAST faction, has broken off to form the Samoa Uniting Party (Samoa ua Potopoto, SUP). They now promise to finish what FAST began. And HRPP, five years removed from power, insists that the financial stability behind all this generosity was actually their doing. That FAST inherited the fat cows, and is now simply feasting on them.
This is no small claim. It is also not entirely wrong.
If you follow the quarterly reports from the Ministry of Finance, Samoa’s financial position appears, at first glance, solid. As of the second quarter of the 2024–2025 financial year, cash at bank stood at over $653 million. A quarter later, it dropped by just over $100 million. But the number remains high. The problem isn’t whether there’s money. The question is, where did it come from, and can it last?
To answer that, we have to go backwards.
In 2009, Samoa was devastated by a tsunami that killed over 140 people, wiped out entire villages like Lalomanu and Saleapaga, and exposed the limits of the government’s disaster readiness. International donors pledged over SAT$271 million. Yet to this day, many in Aleipata claim they never saw what they were promised. Villages were moved inland, roads were built, yes, but the full accounting was never shown to the public. John Campbell, in a televised New Zealand investigation, confronted then-Prime Minister Tuilaepa about where the money went. The answers were vague. Promises to audit the funding never produced a document that satisfied the families who lost everything. The state delivered infrastructure; the people had expected justice.
Then came the 2019 measles outbreak. Eighty-three lives lost. Vaccination rates had plummeted, trust in the health system shattered after a tragic vaccine mix-up the year before. The HRPP government declared a state of emergency and depended largely on outside help. Nurses from New Zealand, vaccines from the WHO, logistical support from Australia. It was another moment that tested the state’s capacity to prepare, to absorb aid, and to rebuild trust. Again, the final bill was paid, but not in political capital. That was spent long before the 2021 election.
When FAST came to power, they arrived with a public weary of big promises and low delivery. Their answer was to give directly. One million tala to every district, every year. That scheme is still running. It has now become the baseline expectation. Opposition parties don’t oppose it. They promise to expand it.
The Finance Minister says inflation is under control. The Central Bank agrees in its policy statements. But in the market stalls of Fugalei and Vaitele, prices haven’t fallen. The cost of a bag of sugar, the price of cooking oil, remains higher than before COVID. The truth is that inflation doesn’t need to rise for people to suffer. If prices go up and never come down, the suffering stays.
And in the background, the national budget has stalled. No FY2025–2026 budget has been debated or passed. The government operates on a continued budget resolution. Spending continues, but without a fresh parliamentary mandate.
It is tempting to say Samoa is still in its fat years. That there’s money in the account. That the government can afford to be generous. But the money sitting in the bank is not inexhaustible. It reflects years of donor support, of careful borrowing under HRPP, and unspent COVID funds. It was built over time. And now, each quarter, it is being drawn down.
This is where the politics of now meet the economics of tomorrow. Each side in Samoa’s political contest claims to have the people’s back. But there is no clear plan, from any party, for what happens when the money thins. There is no famine plan. No Joseph. Only dreams.
Yet it is not only politicians who shape Samoa’s future. It is voters. And among voters, there is a weariness not just with poverty, but with promises. One million tala to districts might help with new meeting houses or small projects, but it doesn’t stretch to school fees, transport costs, or job creation. Voters remember when tsunami aid vanished into untraceable projects. They remember the measles crisis, and who showed up to help. Now, in every village, they’re asking not just what’s being promised, but whether it will last, and who will take responsibility if it doesn’t.
International partners are watching, too. Samoa’s debt remains manageable only because of grants and concessional loans. But development agencies do not fund political handouts. There is a growing tension between Samoa’s domestic election politics and its obligations to global financial rules. There is no public record of oversight attached to the district grants. And no mechanism, beyond changing the government, for asking where the money has gone.
There is also a generational echo. HRPP claims it created Samoa’s economic foundation, and in many ways, it did. It privatised SamoaTel, Vailima Brewery, the national insurance company, and other state-owned enterprises. This generated revenue in the short term, but it also removed key sources of public income. Where once profits from telecoms, beer, and insurance flowed into public services, they now go to private owners. Prices did not drop. Water and electricity, once nearly free, became commodified. The economic shift redefined what it meant to be Samoan in a modern state, not as a citizen entitled to shared public goods but as a customer in a commercial marketplace.
This is the deeper story beneath the fat cows. HRPP built the economy, yes, but it built it on a philosophy of central control and eventual privatisation. It kept the state powerful, and the people dependent. FAST disrupted that by putting cash directly into voters’ hands. Whether it was wise or not, whether it was strategic or populist, it changed the flow of power. It said, this money was always yours.
Now, another disruption is forming. The Samoa Uniting Party (Samoa Ua Potopoto, SUP), formed by former FAST ministers removed during the party’s internal realignments, has entered the race, offering not only expanded economic relief but a return to clean, transparent governance. Their emergence doesn’t just represent a new political name but reopens the question of who public money belongs to, and whether any party will use it to build long-term national strength rather than short-term loyalty.
And here’s the irony that Tuilaepa knows better than anyone. The system that pulled wealth into the centre, into government accounts, private partnerships, and corporate conversions, is now being flipped. HRPP, the party that oversaw that centralisation, is now promising to give the money back. Not because the system changed, but because it worked. Because the pool is deep enough to dip into now and play saviour. The same network that once withheld is now delivering. Because the votes depend on it.
So now, the irony. HRPP accuses FAST of wasting what it built. But FAST could respond. We didn’t waste it, but we just returned it.
As elections draw near, each party offers a better future. But the real battle is not just over policy. It is over who the economy is for. Not just who runs it, but who owns it. And whether, in the end, Samoans will be given only fat cows to admire, or the tools to survive when the thin ones arrive.
